


Rough Sex, Make It Hurt

by slytheringheights



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Marriage Law but not angsty, One Shot, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, but not too rough, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21739045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytheringheights/pseuds/slytheringheights
Summary: It’s wedding night for our reluctant spouses, Draco and Hermione. They have less than an hour to consummate their bond, or lose their magic.“Rough, I think,” she hurriedly admitted, just above a whisper.“What was that,” Draco moved closer to her, shifting his head so that his ear was closer to her mouth. “I didn’t hear you.” He heard her just fine, but this moment was too delicious not to milk.“I like rough sex,” she said louder, forcing him to turn his ear away from her mouth and stare into her determined brown eyes. “I think.”Draco, amused, stepped closer to her, entering her personal space where she was perched on the table. “You like rough sex…you think?”She averted her eyes from his intense stare and nodded.“And why is it that you think you like it rough, but don’t know that you do?”***A light, smutty Marriage Law one-shot.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 85
Kudos: 1667





	Rough Sex, Make It Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> Your reviews and kudos have lifted me up and encouraged me. Very grateful to anyone who has spent any of their time reading my fics. 
> 
> Have you all picked up on the theme of my fic titles yet? ;) I will move them into a collection soon.

“You look fucking ridiculous,” Draco Malfoy muttered as he continued pacing a hole into the exceptionally plush carpet of the penthouse honeymoon suite bought and paid for by the Ministry of Magic.

“Me? Look at you,” Hermione Granger retorted, gesturing to their nearly identical bedroom attire. “We look like we cleaned out the skimpy black satin robe department at Madame Malkin’s.”

She poured a double serving of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey, leaving the champagne to continue chilling, unopened, on ice. This situation called for the highest possible alcohol by volume. She hopped up on the dining table—very sturdy, she thought absently—and resumed her watch over her new husband’s frantic movements across the—truly luxurious, actually—carpet. The Ministry may be trash at making social policy, but they really knew how to design a honeymoon suite.

“This whole situation is ridiculous,” Draco responded, waving his arms through the air to accentuate his point. “How can you be so calm right now?” He stopped his pacing across the carpet—which felt rather nice under his bare feet, he had to admit—and stared right at his new wife. “You must be as horrified about this turn of events as I am.” He ticked his head at an angle and narrowed his eyes. “Unless, you have somehow been harboring some intense secret crush on me this whole time.” He smirked, but half-heartedly, as if it was more from muscle memory.

Hermione rolled her eyes, so far back into her head that she worried she had strained her cornia. “Literally the opposite.” She took another sip from the rapidly depleting liquid courage in her tumbler. “I just don’t see the point in wallowing in this. It’s done. We said our vows. We’re together until death do us part.” And then she smiled the sweetest, fakest smile. “Darling.”

He met her fake smile with one of his own. “Well, _darling_. I suppose you have no qualms getting on with the night then,” he said as he removed his satin black dressing robe and stood several feet away from her in nothing but black silk boxers, contrasting—not unattractively, Hermione reluctantly admitted—with his notoriously pale features.

She choked on her firewhiskey. She _had_ actually forgotten about this part of the arrangement. Perhaps she was actively repressing awareness of all the horrid consequences of this blasted Marriage Law. It was passed exactly 28 days ago and exactly 21 days ago, she received a letter with her match, Draco Fucking Malfoy. Exactly 20 days and 12 hours ago, she and Malfoy reluctantly agreed to the match, rather than choose the alternative—obliviation and permanent expulsion from the wizarding world.

And exactly two hours ago, she and Draco participated in the public part of their bonding ceremony, the first step in tying each to the other…forever.

The second part of the ceremony was to be decidedly more…private. In order to complete the ceremony—and seal their bond forever—they needed to consummate the relationship. By midnight.

Hermione glanced at the clock ticking quietly away on the bedstand. 11:20 pm.

“Fuck,” she whispered as she looked down into the receding depths of her drink.

“That’s the idea, Granger,” Draco said resignedly as he stalked to the table and noisily poured himself a glass of Ogden’s. He took three large gulps and refilled his glass. Hermione held her empty glass out to him too. There was nothing in the law or the binding ceremony that required sobriety. He refilled her glass, sighed, and leaned against the table next to her, with the tension between them taking on an unfamiliar note of solidarity.

After a moment of silence and a pair empty stares into the fire roaring across the room, Draco downed his drink and set down the glass, turning to face her head on.

“Ok,” he sighed, gathering his determination for what was next. “How do you like it?”

Hermione looked into his eyes, searching for context clues to clarify his question. “How do I like what?”

“Sex, Granger. How do you like to have sex?” His stare was steady and he seemed completely unflustered by this topic of conversation. Hermione, meanwhile, looked like she would rather engage in an extended discussion of Fantasy Quidditch than discuss her sexual preferences. She sipped from her glass again, trying to drink the nonchalance into her body.

“Quick. That’s how I like it.” She met his stare with her own. “We should just get this over with as quickly as humanly possible so that the bonding ceremony will be complete and we can go back to aggressively ignoring each other again.”

He chuckled—outright guffawed!—at her response. “No, no, Granger. That won’t work.” He shook his head but his smirk—whole-hearted this time—remained. “You see, once this bonding ceremony concludes, we will be, literally, bonded to one another. Forever.” He paused to let his last word sink in.

“In other words, I am the only man you will be able to have sex with and you are the only witch my cock will ever feel the inside of again. And if you think that I am going to spend the rest of my life having lousy—or worse, nonexistent—sex, then you are terribly mistaken.”

She glared at him. She also truly hated the idea of never having satisfying sex for the rest of her life, but honestly, her experiences thus far hadn’t made a compelling case that sex was all that essential to her well-being. Still, Malfoy had a point: why resign yourself to a lifetime of sad, mediocre sex when you could have satisfying sex instead? Her glare shifted into a calculating stare.

“Rough, I think,” she hurriedly admitted, just above a whisper.

“What was that,” Draco moved closer to her, shifting his head so that his ear was closer to her mouth. “I didn’t hear you.” He heard her just fine, but this moment was too delicious not to milk.

“I like rough sex,” she said louder, forcing him to turn his ear away from her mouth and stare into her determined brown eyes. “I think.”

Draco, amused, stepped closer to her, entering her personal space where she was perched on the table. “You like rough sex…you _think_?”

She averted her eyes from his intense stare and nodded.

“And why is it that you _think_ you like it rough, but don’t _know_ that you do?” Draco was taking the opportunity offered by her averted eyes to run his gaze over every feature on her face, looking for clues for what was going on inside this witch’s intriguing—and, he realized, quite pretty—little head. His eyes had just started a thorough exploration of her plump, naturally pink lips when she turned back to him.

“Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of sweet, adoring sex and it was nice, but not…effective, if you get my drift.” Her eyes blinked away from his stare, looking everywhere but into his steady gray gaze.

She was being bashful. How absolutely fucking _adorable_. He decided to continue this line of questioning a bit more.

“Your fair share? Of sweet, adoring sex? And it was…nice? But it never got you off. Is that what you’re saying?” He moved a space closer, enough that he could feel the heat of her nervous energy pulse toward him. His eyes scanned every muscle under the smooth, tan skin of her beautiful—yes, definitely beautiful—face, twitching in response to his words. So responsive to his words. Promising.

Sighing out roughly, it seemed she had resolved to meet his questioning head on. Pushing any shame or discomfort deep down, tapping deep into her reserves of Gryffindor confidence.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I am saying. I have dated several very lovely men who worshipped the ground I walk on, because you know, Brightest Witch, Golden Girl, Order of Merlin, and so on. They looked deep into my eyes with longing and reverence while they slowly, gently moved inside of me.” She paused briefly to look into his eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of evidence that she managed to make him as uncomfortable as he seemed so determined to make her. His eyes darkened and pupils expanded at her words, but his eyes still locked to hers. “I tried to casually encourage a bit more spanking and grabbing, but alas. There’s only one way to fuck a woman you’ve put up on a pedestal it seems—sweetly. So if it is all the same to you, I wouldn’t mind if your nails dug into my flesh a bit, if your teeth made little marks all over me, if I still felt your hand prints on my arse tomorrow morning. Feel free to make it hurt a bit, you know.”

The walls of his mouth pooled with saliva, rushing to coat his dry tongue. His eyes glazed with curly-headed visions of this witch writhing under him, on top of him, pressed against him over every fucking surface of this suite. He swallowed, not without effort.

“What about you, Malfoy? How do you like it?” She smirked—smirked!—up at him, as if she could see every filthy thing he was about to do to her. She slowly took another sip from the crystal tumbler still clutched in her hand, but her eyes never left his. She put the glass down on the table and leaned back on her hands. Her eyes were goading him, telling him to get on with it already.

“Fortunately for you, I _know_ I like it rough.”

He growled and in a smooth series of movements, quickly—yes, roughly—grabbed the backs of her knees and yanked them apart before stepping into the space between. He pulled her forward, hip slamming into hip. One hand fell to the side of her neck, but she only had a moment to savor the pleasant weight of it against her skin before he snaked his hand around the nape of her neck and into her hair. He grabbed hold and jerked her head, like he had taken the reins and initiated the start of the ride.

Her eyes, steadily darkening, momentarily lost focus when she felt the slight pinch at the base of her hair follicles that sent a jolt lower down her body. She had yet to regain her sight when she felt his lips crash down on hers, his tongue not at all waiting for any polite caresses between lips. Her tongue met his in force, and his tongue felt hard, determined against hers, but agile, meeting her stroke for stroke. She took his bottom lip in hers, biting it, telling him she could take more, much more. He glared down at her as his hand tightened in her curls. His other hand ran up the side of her thigh, under the hem of her barely there black satin nightie. He gripped her ass, hard, and with a grunt, pulled her head to the side, while he latched his mouth to the other, more exposed side of her neck. She moaned at the light suction on her neck and the corresponding slick that was gathering at her core.

If you asked her right now whether this might be a record for how quickly arousal had overtaken her senses, she may have lied. Of course not, she’d say. No way did it take just one hair pull and one nip on her neck to get her this fucking _soaked_.

She gasped as he found that spot— _the_ spot—on her neck, two inches below her ear, half tick over under her jaw. No one ever found it that quickly. No one ever realized so quickly how important that spot was to unlocking the rest of her body. But he realized it, she knew he did. She knew he knew he did. She began squirming and fucking _whimpering_ as he increased the intensity of his coordinated attack on this special spot on her neck, biting and soothing, biting and soothing, until she was what one would charitably describe as a keening mess.

His nails dug further into her round, plump rear with every delectable sound she made. It was the only thing that helped him focus on his task at hand, which he decided, was to pleasure the living fuck out of her. So responsive, so hungry for him. When her hands circled around his torso and latched onto the muscles beneath his shoulder blades, he struggled to control his urge to rip off this tiny little scrap of material and plunge his cock deep inside her hot, responsive body until he could feel the vibration of every moan pulse around him. But he wanted to take his time with this witch.

Time.

Startled out of his trance, he ripped his mouth mid-lick from her neck and whipped his head around to find the clock. 11:35 pm.

He relaxed and let out a sigh. He turned back to Hermione, who was slowly opening her eyes as if coming out of a daze. She looked so deliciously primed for him. Lips parted, neck red from the flush of arousal and the bites he left. He kept one hand firmly gripping her hair, while his other hand loosened his grip on her bum—definitely bruises tomorrow—and slid around her hip to the trimmed tuft of curls above her center.

“Granger, where are your knickers?” His voice was low, croaking, as if he hadn’t spoken in years.

She bit her lip, clearly anticipating where his hand would move next. “I guess the Ministry deemed them unnecessary for this situation. They didn’t come with the outfit – ah!”

He’d slid his thumb down to circle her clit in one firm stroke and moved the rest of his fingers to skim her slit. He groaned when he felt her dripping for him. He tightened his hold on her hair, seeing her eyes flash with the spark of pain. He thrust two fingers in—she didn’t need a warm-up. Her head fell back at the sudden, blissful intrusion. He knew she was wet, but _fuck_. His fingers pumped her and as he felt the slick coating them, saw her head loll back and was momentarily distracted by the sight of her, completely lost. His fingers stilled inside of her.

Her eyes snapped open and she dug her nails into his back, scratching his skin under her fingernails. Panting, she pleaded, “Don’t stop.”

Yeah, he was dead. Done for. And he was going to take her down with him. But did he have enough time? He quickly calculated that, yes, in fact, he thought he might.

He removed his fingers from her and he chuckled to himself when he saw a flash of rage cross her features. He ignored her deepening claws in his back as he brought his coated fingers to his mouth.

She watched, transfixed, as he closed his eyes when the taste of her hit his tongue, as if he had just swallowed a sip of fine wine. The eyes that met hers when he opened them were somehow darker, flashed with determination. Before she could make sense of anything, he dropped to his knees and threw her shaking legs over his shoulders. She panicked.

“Malfoy, no. We don’t have time…” she was silenced by the first long swipe of his firm tongue along the inside of her opening.

“We have time. Trust me,” he whispered between licks. His voice was far away, his entire focus on making this pulsing, leaking pussy crumble under his tongue in under three minutes. He had calculated that three minutes was all he could afford on this part. He suspected that three minutes was all that he would need.

In any case, she had stopped protesting the moment the rough pad of his tongue swiped up to her absolutely throbbing clit. She whispered expletives into the thickening air around them. He sucked, nibbled, and licked her—hard—his aggressive mouth making sure that no light caress would ever make her feel anything close to this. Her previous lovers—the ones who had oral sex on their menu of options, at least—had always been too slow, their tongues too timid. They approached her pussy—her, in general—like it would break. What Malfoy was doing to her was a revelation—he wasn’t reverent, he was relentless.

He flicked rapid fire across her sensitive nub and then attached his mouth over her and sucked, and she felt her desire move from beneath her pelvis to the tip of her clit, as if he was sucking her pleasure into his mouth through a straw.

Sensing how close she was, he pulled her further to the edge of the table, giving him more access to her rear. Still feasting on her, he caressed the fleshy expanse of her bum before pulling his hand back and smacking the flat of his palm against her cheek. Her yelp of surprise turned into a moan.

“Yes. More.” He spanked her again and again and it felt urgent. _Come for me_ , he was telling her with every sharp sting of his hand. Every cell in her body felt fully charged, ready to come apart with one more surge.

And then she screamed—loud—and her body went rigid as the power of her orgasm charged through her. She could feel it exploding from every end of her, from the tips of her toes, flexed back toward her ankles, to her eyelashes, pressed tight together and matted with tears of exertion. Her body, trying to regulate itself after such intensity, began shaking and she felt a chill sweep over her.

Draco glanced at the clock and chuckled softly. Two minutes, forty-five seconds. “Good girl,” he murmured under his breath as he stood.

He dropped his silk boxers to the floor and tossed them aside. He lifted Hermione off the table, forcing her to stand on her unstable legs. His fingers hooked under the thin straps of her black negligee and shifted them off her shoulders. He allowed himself a few seconds of appreciating how the satin fabric floated down her skin, revealing more of her body to him. As the fabric crested her hardened nipples, he bit his bottom lip to keep from making a truly desperate sound. Finally the fabric pooled on the floor and their break was over.

He grabbed her by the hips and whipped her body around and pushed her front flat against the table.

The wood was slightly warm from where she had been sitting (writhing). She felt her sensitive nipples rub the heated grooves in the wood and she moaned.

“You have such an enticing ass, Granger,” punctuating his comment with a hard smack across the round, toned flesh. He smiled when he saw the slight jiggle of the skin, pulled taut like a rubber band over the muscle. His smile turned into a smirk when she yelp-moaned in response.

He didn’t linger long. Knowing that time was of the essence, he gripped his hard cock—uncomfortably hard; hard since “rough I think”—and positioned himself between her slit, coating himself in her wet, sticky pleasure. He slid his tip to her entrance and, digging his fingers into the bend in her hips, he jerked her body back toward him to sheath himself entirely within her.

He stopped breathing. Stopped thinking. Stopped hearing sound.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he exhaled when his senses finally rushed back to him. He reached his hand into the curly mess on her head and pulled her body flush against his chest by her hair. She squeaked in pain.

He moved one hand from her hip to roughly knead her breast and pinch her nipple. She reached her hand behind his head to grab his hair, needing something to hold on to.

“Someday, when we aren’t trying to seal a marriage bond, I’m going to come all over these beautiful tits,” he growled into her ear.

Every part of her was consumed by feeling him—the sting from his touch on her skin, the throbbing from his hard, thick strokes inside her, the shiver from his dirty words in her ear.

She opened her eyes and was momentarily startled to see eyes staring back at her from beyond the table. She saw sweat beading on naked flesh, pale, muscular forearms wrapped around tanned skin, and brown, curly hair touching silver. She had never seen two people have sex in front of her, but she felt her pulse quicken by watching the erotic vision. Her focus flicked up to gray eyes, staring intensely back at her.

“Are you ready to scream?” She saw his lips move in the reflection and shook with realization as she heard the same words close to her ear.

She whimpered, all the noise she could manage at the moment, and saw one of his hands cease their assault on her breast and snake down between her legs. His middle finger found her clit and started rubbing—not with polite caresses, but hard, tight circles. Instead of feeling all of him around her everywhere all at once, she began to sense all the sensations in her body narrowing, coiling down to one place down low in her belly.

His movements became frantic, his grunts more desperate. As much as he wanted to take up residence inside her delicious, warm, tight pussy for the foreseeable future, he was close. He felt her tighten her grip in the hair on the nape of his neck and heard her moans come louder, closer together. He brought his lips down to a spot on her neck— _the_ spot on her neck—that he now knew made her lose her mind. He sucked her flesh between his teeth and bit down, hard.

She pulled his hair sharply and screamed. Her walls, so tight before, were quaking now, squeezing him with erratic strength. He rammed his cock into her one last time and came. Came so hard, blinding white light consumed his vision. He felt the magic of their consummated bond wash over him, merging his magic with hers.

He gripped her tightly, holding on to something, anything that could keep him standing after that. He felt his heart pound in his ears and his senses return. Their bodies collapsed on the table.

She was panting, futilely trying to calm her breathing. “Fuck, that was…” But her voice faded, unable to articulate what that was. Incredible? Mind blowing?

“Earth shattering,” he finished, voice hoarse from his own screams.

Yes. Yes, it was earth shattering, but it was world building too. She felt something explode apart and remake itself anew inside of her. Stronger than ever.

He turned his head toward the clock. 11:59. Perfect timing.

He reluctantly slipped out of her and, not trusting his ability to stand on his own, moved to lay down on the exceptionally plushy carpet. He grasped her wrist, pulling her body down with him. They laid there, thunderstruck, staring at the ceiling.

This was one part of the marriage, at least, they didn’t have to work on.

“Well, I was right, of course,” she said brightly after a few minutes of silence. “I do like rough sex.”

This swotty little know-it-all! He turned to her and found her smirking back at him.

“In fact, I _think_ I might love it,” she quirked one of her eyebrows up in challenge.

He rolled toward her and rested his head on his propped arm, scanning his eyes along her naked body, bruises, welts, and bite marks littering her skin. He trailed his index finger down from her collarbone to the top of her breast, lightly circling her nipple. “You _think_ you might love it, but don’t _know_ ,” he said contemplatively before pinching her erect nipple.

He hardened when she let out her signature yelp-moan. He would never get tired of hearing it. His heart bloomed when he realized he would spend the rest of his life hearing that sound.

“We should probably repeat the experiment to confirm the results,” her voice breathy with gathering desire.

His hand flew into her hair as he crashed his lips to hers, the fibers of the thick carpet scratching every nerve-ending in her back, setting her senses on fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Your reviews and kudos have lifted me up and encouraged me. Very grateful to anyone who has spent any of their time reading my fics. 
> 
> Have you all picked up on the theme of my fic titles yet? ;) I will make them into a collection soon.


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